Kay’s Stone in Row E E
—–How do you plan a rebirth? I’m not sure you do. You just stand in the darkness until you can’t endure it any longer, and then you move forward until you’re standing in the light.” –Ahmir Q. Thompson
When the devil executed my sister, it was like any other day.
“The thing about hearts is that they always want to keep beating.”
― Elizabeth Scott
–I’m sending you over to one of my favorite sites today, Feminine Collective, because, well, my essay, The Heart Always Wants to Keep Beating is there.
Our Darling, Kay
What do you do when you discover written words that excite you, cause you to reflect, and make you say aloud, “I get what she’s saying here. I identify. I’ve been there. I’m not alone in this crazy world.”
Love Love Love you, K.
~I am pleased to have my poem, You Rise, published on FEMININE COLLECTIVE today.
I fell upon this beautiful, empowering site about a year ago. The stories, intellect, insight, support, and poetry about women exuberate me. I suggest you check out more of the work on their pages!
The moment I experienced gratitude is the moment my healing started– Kim Sisto Robinson
This photo is my all time favorite of Kay. She is FREE! Free! Free!
I distinctly recall somebody during my mad, suicidal stage after Kay’s murder making this comment— “You should really consider your blessings.”
–Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I call to you. I call as my heart grows faint: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.—Psalm 61
Kay’s son’s dog, Abbey.
When my sister, Kay, was getting ready to leave her 25 year marriage, her soon to be ex-husband shot her 3 times in back of the head. She was walking out the door to go for a hike on her favorite West Duluth Trail. She was making plans for a new life, a better life, a life where she was lifted up, valued, listen to, and loved. This was the life she had always wanted.
It’s been 3 years, 8 months, and 27 days since your murder.
I shall always count the days you’re not with me, always calculate your birthdays, always long for your famous baked beans overflowing with bacon on Forth of July.
In the beginning, I was out of control, inconsolable, wandering around the house shouting– “son-of-a-bitch, bastard, why did this happen to our family?”
Why couldn’t we save you?